Home for the Holidays
by Ho-sama
Summary: Dean, Sam, and Castiel may not celebrate holidays in the traditional sense, but they make the most out of them when they can. A look at Team Free Will during the holidays and the special Destiel moments that arise. Dean/Castiel. [WIP]


**Chapter:** New Year's Eve  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing:** Dean/Castiel  
**Spoilers:** None  
**Warnings:** Strong language  
**Summary:** Dean, Sam, and Castiel may not celebrate holidays in the traditional sense, but they make the most out of them when they can. A look at Team Free Will during the holidays and the special Destiel moments that arise.  
**A/N: **This is going to be a series. I'm planning to write a year's worth of holidays spent by the boys, focusing on their precious Destiel moments.

* * *

Many people spend New Year's Eve drinking all night, socializing with friends and strangers alike, and watching a large, luminous ball drop on television following the pageantry of colorful celebrities. Instead of this inebriated celebration of new things to come, the Winchesters spent their New Year's Eve wondering if they would make it to midnight. Along with their travelling angel companion, they had difficultly feeling hopeful or interested about the future when their lives were being threatened. They could not do anything other than live in the now because they were working on the holiday.

Dean suffered a painful, almost bone-cracking blow to the back from a fallen shelf, while Sam dodged a cabinet full of flying knives with impressive dexterity.

"What is it with poltergeists and knives?" Sam cried from the kitchen floor. By his recollection, every house he had seen that had been plagued by a poltergeist had also been a little too well stocked with knives.

Dean panted as Cas helped him crawl out from under the belligerent shelf, "I think…I think that was the last one," he said. Dean heard two more knives stab into the chair Sam was using as a shield. "Or not."

By the time the threat was neutralized, the three men couldn't jump into the Impala quickly enough. It was 10:45 PM. An hour or two after midnight, the owners of the house would return to a disaster area, never knowing that they had been spared a gruesome death by poltergeist.

"Dean, pull over," Sam murmured as they passed by a sign for a rest stop. They made a quick stop and when Sam returned he asked Cas to switch spots with him so he could nap in the backseat. Dean pulled out onto the road again, swigging coffee that did little to animate him while listening to one of his tapes that Sam was sick of hearing.

"If I hear this song one more time, I think I'm gonna puke," Sam complained from the backseat, with his eyes barely open.

"Sheesh, fine! You're so cranky when you're tired," Dean answered, quite cranky himself. He didn't normally give in to Sam's complaints about his music, but he was eager for a change too. He flipped on the radio.

"How's your back?" Castiel asked Dean softly.

The other man shrugged, "Fine."

"You look tired."

"Don't worry about me. I can make it to the next town," Dean insisted. He made an effort to look more alert, but it did nothing to convince Cas that he wasn't achy and exhausted. Sam had nodded off in the back and was drooling on the leather. Dean got a sudden curiosity to know what time it was, but he didn't remember why it mattered until the radio hosts began to chatter about the coming year. _11:27 PM. _Dean hastily pulled the car over. "Cas, it's New Year's Eve."

"It is."

Dean disappeared and came back with a red and white cooler. He popped it open and smiled up at the angel wearily. "That means it's time for a drink. You want a beer?"

It was nice, Dean thought, to sit in the car with Cas drinking beer after surviving yet another job. He left the radio on as they sat together. "Have you ever celebrated New Years on earth before?"

"I've seen more years pass on Earth than I can remember."

"Yeah, but I mean, have you ever crashed a party or had a New Year's drink?" Dean grinned. "Gone AWOL from your angel buddies?"

From Dean's soft, teasing chuckle, Cas could tell he had guessed his response. A stoic soldier that was celibate by choice after eons of service to the Lord would most likely be the last angel to crash a party or cut loose in any way. "No," Cas answered and then gave Dean an affectionate smile, "I've only ever gone AWOL after meeting you."

Pleased for reasons beyond those he could understand, Dean returned the affection in his expression and clinked his bottle to Castiel's, "Here's to going AWOL," he said. After a moment, Dean contemplated out loud, "I would love to take you to a party."

"Why?"

Dean was hazy with sleepiness and it made him speak more candidly. Dean didn't like people much, but the thought of Cas at a party made him happy. "I don't know. 'Cause I've never seen you in a festive kind of atmosphere. I don't know what that'd be like. I bet you could drink all the Jell-O shots without even getting a little drunk."

"What's a Jell-O shot?"

"You know, little shots of Jell-O with booze in 'em. Chick love those," Dean murmured. In the short time they were parked, Dean drank twice the beer Cas did. Some calm seconds passed before Dean asked, "Do you ever make resolutions? That's another thing you're supposed to do on New Years."

"No. Do you?" Cas asked.

"Hell no! That's a bunch of bullshit," Dean grumbled. He tried to think about what he would resolve to do for the coming year, but had trouble thinking of anything. "I'd like to go a year without dying. If I could resolve not to die next year, that's what I'd do."

Castiel snickered quietly and that drew Dean's attention. Any sound of happiness that came from Cas was music to his soul. With interest, Dean asked, "What would be your resolution?"

"Same as yours. I like you better when you're alive."

"No, Cas. That's not how resolutions work. On New Years, you're supposed to have a goal or, like, a bad habit you want to break. Resolutions are to plan to change something about yourself for the better for the New Year."

Castiel thought he still wouldn't change his answer. As long as the Winchesters were alive and relatively well, there wasn't much else he cared about. "Oh. Well, I like things as they are."

"Me too," Dean answered with only two minutes to midnight. "But, at some point, I resolve to make you some Jell-O shots. Maybe get you drunk more often. That seems like a good idea."

Dean's body was beginning to slip off into sleep, but he was determined to stay up at least until the clock hit twelve. He shook himself and set his almost empty beer to the side. He watched the clock and listened to the radio intently. He felt as if time was moving at a snail's pace.

"What are we supposed to do when the clock strikes twelve?" Castiel questioned curiously. Dean didn't answer immediately because he was lost in thought. The excitement over the radio was palatable. As it mounted and exploded into cheers, Dean pulled Castiel into a kiss.

Initially, the kiss was not well coordinated and terrified the angel. Cas remained still and wide-eyed while _Auld Lang Syne_ filled the Impala. Dean was committed to keeping their mouths pressed together. He curled his hands into the lapels of Castiel's coat and Cas relaxed and responded gently because nothing had ever felt more right. The angel had witnessed scenes like this before, but had never participated. Dean felt so warm and incredible that Cas wished his lips would never part.

After a long time, they did.

"I've always wanted to do that," Dean said, inches away from Cas. Castiel's face lit up with a sensitive swell of emotion and hope. His face colored because he was so flattered and happy. Right when he thought about responding in kind, Dean said, "I've never kissed anyone at midnight on New Years. Can you believe that?"

Castiel was stunned because he had been thinking Dean had always wanted to kiss _him_, but it turned out Dean would have been satisfied by 'anyone.' Castiel had no idea how to respond. His instinct was to ask for more of his lips or to compliment Dean at his talent in kissing, but he remained silent.

"Oh, shit. Fuck. I'm sorry, man," Dean said and gave Castiel a pat on the shoulder. "I scared you, didn't I? I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I shouldn't have – "

"N-No, it's fine," Castiel sighed, deeply affected by Dean's green gaze. Dean continued to give the angel a long, unreadable look, but then cast his eyes down.

"I just thought, I don't know…if my resolution fails and I'm in Hell by this time next year, I don't wanna go without ever having kissed anyone on New Years," Dean confessed quietly. He was embarrassed for being selfish and for violating Castiel's space, but the kiss meant something to him. "Thanks, Cas, for not freakin' out and poofing away."

"You're welcome," Castiel replied. Not once had he considered vanishing. He leaned in closely to Dean, but didn't dare kiss him again. "If you're in Hell this time next year, I'll just pull you out again."

"How 'bout that? Thanks, man," Dean grinned warmly, thinking Castiel was absolutely the best friend a man could ever have. He could never thank him enough. Inwardly, Dean made a resolution to thank Castiel more often in the coming year. Dean was nearly reclining all over Cas when he nudged him and said, "Hey, Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year, Dean."


End file.
